


just wanna keep calling your name

by tintedglasses



Series: Take Your Winterhawk to Work Day AU [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amputee Bucky Barnes, Anal Sex, But also, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Crying, Crying During Sex, Deaf Clint Barton, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Praise Kink, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Probably not necessary to read other parts first, and SMUT, and discussions of it, bucky barnes in charge, but not any of the main characters, gun mention, the whole trifecta really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 21:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19326649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tintedglasses/pseuds/tintedglasses
Summary: Bucky will admit that he doesn’t know a lot of the Big Things about Clint. He’s stopped keeping track of how many dates they’ve had, but he knows it’s been more than five and he still doesn’t know how Clint lost his hearing or the reasons behind his boundaries or why he left Iowa for the city. He doesn’t know if Clint has siblings or why he doesn’t want to take his hearing aids off around Bucky or what caused the small scattering of circular scars on the back of his left shoulder blade.It’s okay, though. It’s more than okay. Because BuckyknowsClint. He knows that Clint is caring and kind and respects Bucky’s boundaries. And Bucky wants to be that sort of partner for him, too.Or, Bucky spends the night.





	just wanna keep calling your name

**Author's Note:**

> this 'verse is always rolling around in the back of my head, so i wrote another part to it. i think this one can be read as a stand-alone.
> 
> this fic started out as smut writing practice but then kind of took a hard left, so it does include content that could be triggering (specifically, fairly detailed descriptions of child abuse). if you'd like to skip that part or if you want a heads up to what's in it, check out the end notes. there's also some instances of ableist language (i think). 
> 
> title is from "I Don't Wanna Live Forever" by Taylor Swift, which has nothing to do with this fic, but fits the theme of the titles so far in the series.
> 
> unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

“You’re so good, darling. So, so good for me,” Bucky says, taking in Clint’s flushed face where he’s lying underneath Bucky, Bucky’s hand holding both of Clint’s wrists up above his head, Clint’s thighs trapped under Bucky’s ankles where he’s hooked his feet around them. 

Bucky would never want to be pinned down like that, but Clint seems to like it—seems to _really_ like it—so Bucky is more than happy to give it to him.

They’ve been together for two months, so he knows things about Clint now—that he likes being held down, for one, and that he likes being told that he’s good, but also, little things, like how he doesn’t actually like pizza crust but eats them anyways and that he likes to wear socks with dogs on them and that he wants a dog but won’t get one because he would feel guilty leaving it in his apartment all day. 

And Bucky will admit that he doesn’t know a lot of the Big Things about Clint. He’s stopped keeping track of how many dates they’ve had, but he knows it’s been more than five and he still doesn’t know how Clint lost his hearing or the reasons behind his boundaries or why he left Iowa for the city. He doesn’t know if Clint has siblings or why he doesn’t want to take his hearing aids off around Bucky or what caused the small scattering of circular scars on the back of his left shoulder blade.

Steve keeps asking Bucky for more information about Clint, information that Bucky doesn’t have—but probably wouldn’t share anyways—and he can tell that it makes Steve nervous that Bucky knows so few details about Clint’s life. Even if he couldn’t tell, Steve’s _Buck, I’m sure he’s a nice guy, but…_ would be a sure sign.

It’s okay, though. It’s more than okay. Because Bucky _knows_ Clint. He knows that Clint is caring and kind and respects Bucky’s boundaries. And Bucky wants to be that sort of partner for him, too.

Besides, he knows what it’s like to have things that you are afraid to share with people. He would never begrudge Clint that.

“Bucky?” Clint pants from beneath him, his voice breaking off into a whine, pulling Bucky back to the present. “Y’okay?”

Bucky leans forward and seals his mouth over Clint’s, the movement causing him to push harder against Clint’s wrists to maintain his balance. Clint’s back arches up beautifully, a low groan escaping from the gaps between their lips.

He pulls back just enough to give himself the space to say, “Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart. Was just thinking. Sorry to make you wait.”

“S’okay,” Clint says, even though he’s squirming. “I like waiting.”

“You do, don’t you?” Bucky says, rubbing his thumb over the knob of Clint’s wrist. “And you look so pretty doing it.”

Bucky has to lean down and kiss him again when he sees the blush that floods Clint’s cheeks. 

They’ve talked about this a lot—the kinds of things Clint likes and how they match up with what Bucky likes, too. And Bucky was always good at sex before, he knows that. He knows that he was good at making other people feel good, took pride in his skill even, but he wasn’t really sure it would be the same after he got back, and it’s not. Not really.

His doctor wasn’t lying about the side effects of the antidepressants. It takes him a long time to reach the same level of arousal as Clint most days, and a lot of the time, he finds he just doesn’t have the energy for it.

Sometimes he can tell that Clint feels a little guilty about it, but he never makes Bucky feel weird or broken or ashamed. Instead, he listened when Bucky told him that he’s still enjoying himself even if he doesn’t get off all the time. That it’s not about keeping score, but about making each other happy.

And making Clint happy makes Bucky happy. Bucky’s never had sex like this before, where his partner is so easy to please, so eager to please. He loves it. Loves giving Clint what he wants, loves telling Clint how good he looks while he’s taking it. 

But tonight, they are celebrating Clint finally taking his graduate school entrance exam and an end to four hour practice tests every weekend, and they’ve already spent what feels like hours fooling around, so arousal is definitely not an issue for Bucky right now.

“Have you waited long enough, babe?” Bucky asks, once the blush has receded from Clint’s cheeks. “D’you think you’re ready?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, nodding his head frantically, his wide blue eyes pleading with Bucky, and a flood of heat pools at the base of Bucky’s spine. He has to pause until he doesn’t feel like he’s going to come at any second—it might take him a while to get hard now, but it definitely doesn’t take much to set him off once he is. 

Then, he releases one of Clint’s hands. “Okay, go for it then, sweetheart.”

Clint’s hand darts down to his cock, which is still slick from when Bucky had gotten him hard earlier, and lines himself up with Bucky. He moves as if he’s going to try and thrust up into Bucky, but Bucky stops him. “Shh, hold still.”

Clint’s muscles lock as he listens to the command, a bitten off whine in the back of his throat.

“Good,” Bucky groans as he sinks down, pushing against the blunt pressure until the head of Clint’s cock pops in. He bites his lip at the sensation before breathing out heavily. “Okay, hand back up.”

Clint lets go of his dick and puts his hand above his head again, sliding it under his other wrist so that Bucky can resume his grip on both of his hands. 

Once both hands are securely held down, Bucky starts the slow slide onto Clint’s dick, thankful now that Clint had insisted on opening him up so thoroughly. “Fuck, babe, that’s so good,” he says when he’s fully seated. “You fill me up so good.”

“It feels good?” Clint asks, and Bucky knows it’s not because he needs the validation, but because he likes to hear it.

Bucky lifts back up slowly, sliding up Clint’s dick incrementally until it almost slips out, before lowering himself back down. This angle is hell on his thighs, but it’s so worth it. Besides, this is 90% of the reason he’s added extra squats to his gym routine. He can handle it.

“The best, sweetheart. I didn’t even know it could feel this good before you.” 

Clint looks away, his face flaming, and Bucky nudges at his cheek with his nose, still working Clint’s dick over in a slow slide. 

“It’s true, darling. Never had someone look so good for me. Never had someone _be_ so good for me.” 

Clint looks back at Bucky, his eyes a little blurry, lower lash line damp. Fuck, he looks like he’s about to cry.

Bucky slows to a stop. He starts to lean back, preparing to let go of Clint’s hands, but Clint shakes his head. Bucky keeps his grip, but asks, “You doing all right? You need to stop?”

Clint nods first, and then shakes his head. He clears his throat. “I’m good. Keep going, please.”

Bucky takes an extra moment to study Clint’s face and Clint lets him. Then Clint’s mouth quirks up in a small smirk and he bucks his hips up as much as he can from where Bucky’s sitting on them. His eyes look a little clearer, his normal joking manner creeping back in, in what Bucky recognizes is a little way to reassure Bucky that he really is fine. “ _Please._ ”

Bucky squeezes his wrists, not hard but firm. “Be good,” he said, his voice stern. Clint winks at him and Bucky stifles a laugh. Taking that as a sign that Clint is truly okay, he picks himself up and drops quickly, and Clint’s head pitches back as he chokes out a moan, all signs of mirth gone.

Bucky sucks at Clint’s jaw as he sets a faster pace. His thighs burn from the effort, but he knows the more work he puts in now, the faster Clint will go over the edge, and he knows he’s not far from coming either. Clint’s dick hits just right against Bucky’s prostate and Bucky’s movements stutter, his mouth going slack against Clint’s jaw as he focuses on angling just right to hit that spot over and over again.

He slides his slack mouth up to Clint’s chin, pressing a kiss there, before pulling back to look at Clint’s flushed face. God, he’s so pretty.

“You’re so pretty. Look at you,” Bucky croons, trying to sound cool and collected, but he knows the strained edges of his voice are giving him away. It’s okay, though. He knows Clint likes him a little undone. “Lying there and taking it so good. Letting me make myself feel good.”

“Wanna,” Clint babbles, his hips jerking as Bucky tightens around him erratically, so close to coming. “Wanna.”

“Wanna what, babe?” Bucky chokes out, finally nailing the angle on every thrust, his hand slipping a little, slick with sweat.

“Jus’...make you feel good,” Clint grits out, squeezing his eyes shut, a tear spilling out of the corner of his eye.

That, combined with the friction of his dick against Clint’s abs, is enough to push Bucky over the edge, every muscle of his body paralyzed as he comes, choking on a “fuck”.

Clint keens as Bucky clamps down on his dick and Bukcy can feel him coming, too, his flushed chest heaving, hips jerking underneath Bucky. The tear has made its way from the corner of his eye to his hairline, a few more following suit.

Once Bucky has control over his muscles again, he lets go of Clint’s hands and sits up, using his sore thighs to lift himself off of Clint’s softening dick, grimacing at the sensation and the little bit of extra lube that drips out. He ignores it, though, moving to lay against Clint’s side instead, grabbing his hands and pulling them down to kiss at his wrists. 

After they’ve been adequately kissed, he drops Clint’s hands and reaches up to wipe the tears off Clint’s face. “You doing okay for me, sweetheart? I know that was a lot, but you were so good.”

“Yeah, m’good,” Clint says still gasping a little with each breath. “Real good. Too good. You tryin’ to kill me?”

Bucky chokes out a laugh, patting Clint’s face. He’s such a dork and Bucky _likes_ it. God, what even is his life? “You weren’t complaining.”

“Nope, not complaining,” Clint says, moving Bucky off his chest so he can roll on his side to face Bucky. “That was fucking awesome. But, still, one of these days, your ass is going to kill me. I only have so many brain cells, you know? Eventually, you’re going to blow every last one of them.”

Bucky leers at him, sticking his tongue in his cheek.

Clint shoves his shoulder, almost making him tip over before he manages to grab onto Clint’s waist with his hand. “Whoa, there. I only have one arm for balance, jerk,” Bucky says, feeling his mouth grinning through his faux-admonishment. 

Clint leans in to kiss his nose. “I think you’re fine.”

“Don’t need those brain cells anymore anyways,” Bucky says. “You already took your test.”

“Pretty sure I’ll need them once I get into grad school,” Clint says, laughing. His smile dips a little after a moment. “I mean...if I do, of course. I know scores are only, like, one part of it.”

“You did really well, though. I’m proud of you,” Bucky says, because he did and he is. Bucky ignores that way that his stomach twists just a little at the thought of what Clint’s good scores mean, at how he could definitely get accepted now and how he might not get accepted anywhere close to here. They’ve got plenty of time to think about that.

So, instead, he peppers kisses across Bucky’s face—his forehead, his cheeks, his chin.

“Thank you. That means a lot,” Clint says, quietly sincere, as closes his eyes and makes a contented little noise and Bucky leans in to kiss his lips. Bucky shifts closer still, deepening the kiss, until Clint’s condom-covered dick skims across his stomach and he pulls back with a grimace.

“Yuck, we’re pretty gross,” Clint says, flopping onto his back and ridding himself of the condom.

“Yeah, and it’s your turn to get the washcloth this time,” Bucky replies, his chest feeling warm as he watches Clint. Happy. He feels happy.

Clint groans, rolling his head over to look at Bucky. “Aw, man. Do I have to?”

“Yup,” Bucky says, planting a quick kiss on Clint’s mouth. “Fair is fair.”

“Ugh, fine.” Clint climbs off the bed, heading towards the bathroom, dropping the condom in the garbage along the way. “Next time I go to the store, though, I’m buying some wet wipes or something.”

Bucky smiles at that and then he scoots over on the bed, reaching down to pick up his bionic prosthesis from where he left it on the ground. He should probably put it somewhere safer, but every time they’re making out, he just gets so wrapped up in the act that he doesn’t want to pause for any longer than it takes to remove it. One of these days, Clint’s probably going to step on it and then he’ll really be fucked, but he guesses he’ll deal with that when it comes.

It had taken him a few weeks to start wearing his bionic arm around Clint. He likes the added functionality of it, of course, but he can never be sure of how people are going to react to it. With a cosmetic prosthesis, people can kind of pretend that it’s a normal arm if they don’t look too close. It‘s more comforting for them, he thinks, less of an obvious defect. But with the bionic prosthesis, there’s no mistaking it for what it is. Only the bold people actually ask him questions about it, but plenty of people stare and Bucky hates being scrutinized like that.

Bukcy shouldn’t have been worried, though, because in typical Clint fashion, Clint has just called the arm _fucking sick_ and said he looked _super hot_.

The memory makes Bucky smile.

Once he has his arm up on the bed, he sees that his jeans are within his reach, so he grabs those off the floor, too. He can’t quite reach his shirt and he doesn’t want to sit up and risk getting the comforter dirty with lube, but luckily Clint comes back and tosses the washcloth at him.

“Thanks, babe,” he says, cleaning himself off. Once he feels clean enough, he swings his legs around to lever himself into a sitting position. 

He reaches for his arm first, knowing that having two hands will make getting all of his clothes back on much easier.

“Hey, Buck?” Clint says, his voice quieter than normal. Bucky looks up to see Clint standing in his boxers in a few steps away, rubbing at his hearing aid with one hand absent-mindedly. 

It reminds Bucky of the first time they ever came into Clint’s bedroom, when he was the one standing nervously, needing to set boundaries, but not really knowing how to go about it. He automatically sits up straighter, dropping his hand back down to the bed.

“What’s up?” he says, trying to be as nonchalant and comforting as possible, even though Clint’s obvious nerves are making him feel a bit off-kilter.

“I was, uh,” Clint scratches at the hair above his ear, his head tilted to the side a bit as he watches Bucky intently. “I was thinking maybe you could stay this time. If you want.”

Bucky tries not to make too big of a deal out of it, but he can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. They haven’t done this yet and while Bucky would never want to rush Clint into it, he can’t deny that he’s wanted this ever since that first time they hooked up. 

“Yeah,” he says and even if he couldn’t feel himself smiling, he can hear it in his voice. “That’d be great. I’d love to.”

Clint rolls his eyes, the tips of his ears red. His hand drops from where he was messing with his hearing aid as he walks over to Bucky, resting it instead on Bucky’s shoulder. “You don’t have to be so sappy about it, jeez.”

Bucky lets his smile go wider just to see Clint duck his head bashfully. He uses his knees to squeeze Clint’s knees where he’s standing between Bucky’s legs, hoping Clint will look at him. He does, and his smile is small but gorgeous.

“I’d love to,” Bucky repeats.

“Well, fine then. I guess you can.” Clint says, his mouth falling into a little lopsided grin. Bucky’s heart stutters. It’s his favorite one of Clint’s smiles.

“Okay, I will,” he chuckles.

“Good,” Clint says, still looking at Bucky with that little smile, not moving from between Bucky’s legs. 

“Go lock the door, you dork,” Bucky sighs as he nudges Clint after a few moments of this, pretending to be put out, but probably not fooling him one bit. “You really should have it locked at all times, you know?”

“I know, I know.” Clint leans down to kiss Bucky before he heads to the door, like he’s trying to fortify himself with a quick little goodbye even though he’s not going to be gone for more than a minute. “You keep telling me this.”

“And yet,” Bucky raises his voice so Clint can hear him as he walks down the hall, “you never listen.”

Bucky moves his prosthesis back to the floor, pushing it under the bed so that no one steps on it in the middle of the night. Then he shakes his boxers out from where they’re tangled inside of his jeans and tugs them on, tossing the jeans back to the floor to join five other pairs of Clint’s.

He lies down on the bed, his body low-level thrumming with excitement at getting sleep here, and is pulling the comforter over himself when Clint appears in the doorway.

He doesn’t come in, instead leaning against the door jamb, his smile soft, tinged with nerves. They aren’t obvious, but Bucky knows Clint now, so he sees them. His own excitement dims, not because he isn’t still excited, but because it’s muted slightly by concern. 

“Comfy?” Clint asks, his eyes taking in the way Bucky is burrowed underneath his comforter.

Bucky nods. “Is it good if I sleep on the outside? I don’t like being up against the wall.”

“Yeah, sure,” Clint says. “I always sleep close to the wall anyways.”

“Okay, cool,” Bucky says, shifting deeper under the covers so his head can rest on the pillow.

Clint hasn’t moved from his spot by the door, his smile slowly fading until only the nerves are left, one hand picking at the waistband of his underwear.

He looks like he wants to say something and Bucky decides to give him the space to figure it out, despite wanting to ask. He knows that there’s something going on in Clint’s head that Bucky doesn’t understand yet, but he’s okay with following Clint’s lead here.

After a few moments, Clint seems to visibly steel himself and walks over to the bedside table next to Bucky’s head. Bucky watches as he reaches up to touch his ear, his eyes darting over to Bucky. “It might be dumb, but I’m still really nervous to take these out.”

Bucky sits up a little so he can look at Clint more easily. “Hey, we don’t have to do this. I can go home if you want me to. It’s not a problem at all.”

“No, I know. I know you would if I asked you to and that makes it easier, I think.” Clint looks at Bucky straight on now and Bucky can see that he’s being honest. “But I do want you to stay, even if it makes me nervous. I just...wanted you to know that it’s a big deal for me, I guess.”

Bucky reaches out to hold Clint’s wrist, rubbing his thumb against the fragile skin covering his veins. “I know it is. Thank you for trusting me.”

The corner of Clint’s mouth quirks up and he leans down to kiss Bucky on the forehead. Bucky lets go of Clint’s wrist as he straightens up and reaches up to remove the aid from his left ear.

“Wait,” Bucky says before Clint has a chance to take it out, and Clint freezes, eyes wide. “No, it’s just...I forgot to say that I get nightmares sometimes. Not like bad ones or anything, but sometimes I talk during them, so like. There’s that, I guess.”

Clint’s bark of laughter surprises him. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he says, waving towards his ears.

Bucky’s face grows hot, any anxiety he might have had over disclosing his nightmares melting away with embarrassment. “Well,” he stammers, “well, you could still feel the vibrations, right? Like just because you can’t—you could still tell that I’m talking.”

Clint’s laughing now, his nervousness easing at the edges. “I’m just messing around. Yes, I could still tell, so thank you for warning me.”

Bucky huffs out a breath. “Just trying to be considerate.”

“I know. And thank you, really.” His face is more serious now. “Should I wake you up or—?”

“You can, if you want. If it seems bad.” Bucky’s really hoping it won’t come to that, but knows that it could. He doesn’t have nightmares often anymore, but he knows that unfamiliar places can be triggering for his body. “Usually I can just sleep through them, though, if it’s not a really bad one.”

“Alright,” Clint shrugs. He fiddles with his aids again. “Anything else?”

Bucky’s chest loosens a bit, Clint’s easy acceptance relieving a final bit of tension he hadn’t even noticed was there. He tries to be similarly nonchalant for Clint. “No, go ahead.”

Clint takes a breath in, still nervous even though the earlier laughter seems to have eased some of his nerves. He unhooks one ear and places it on the table. He has to close his eyes and take another deep breath before he can take the other one out, but when he’s ready, he removes that one, too.

Bucky knows what it’s like to lose an extension of yourself, how uncomfortable it can make you in your own body. Still, he doesn’t think he can truly understand how hard it must be to lose one of your senses and he feels his heart swell with pride for this wonderful, trusting man who is letting him in on such a vulnerable experience.

He taps Clint’s chest, pursing his lips at him when he looks down and Clint takes the hint and leans down to kiss him. It’s short, just meant to be a quick reassurance, a way for Bucky to say _I’ve got you_ without actually saying the words. 

Clint straightens up after and crosses the room to turn off the light before coming back over to the bed and climbing in behind Bucky, wrapping his arms loosely around him with his chest lightly pressed to Bucky’s back, careful not to hold on too tightly or make Bucky feel pinned.

Bucky tries to imagine the silence of the room that Clint must be experiencing, but he can’t help hearing the way the sheets shift beneath them or listening each time Clint inhales or exhales. It’s almost overwhelming for him to think about how isolating it must be to be missing that. He pushes those thoughts aside, instead focusing on the feeling of Clint’s chest rising and falling with each breath, a little too rapid to be normal, a dead giveaway to his anxiety.

Bucky tries to keep his breaths even to give Clint a rhythm to match. Eventually, Clint’s breathing starts to slow until it’s almost perfectly in sync with Bucky’s and Bucky lets his eyes drift shut.

He’s not expecting it when Clint speaks.

“Are you awake?” Clint asks.

Bucky nods a little bit, even though he’s not really. 

“I might have a nightmare, too,” Clint says, his voice quieter than its normal volume, either because he’s overcompensating for not being able to hear it or because he knows the room itself must be quiet. “And I can’t really tell how loud I scream, so you should probably wake me up.”

Bucky may have been on the edge of sleep before, but he’s awake now, sensing that Clint is telling him something big. He tries to turn around, but Clint just tightens his arms minutely, silently asking him not to. Bucky laces his fingers with Clint’s instead, hoping to give him silent support.

“Stop me if you don’t want to hear any of this, but my dad…” Clint swallows hard and Bucky can feel him starting to tremble a little behind him. He wants so badly to turn around, but he stays put.

Clint takes a deep breath, then continues. “My dad wasn’t a very nice guy. He, uh, he used to get drunk sometimes. And he would...hit my brother and me, at first, but then. Then, it was mostly just me.”

Bucky squeezes Clint’s hand, his heart thudding in his chest. He’s used to hearing stories kind of like this in group, but was wholly unprepared for what it would be like to hear it about someone he cared about so deeply. It hurts, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, how to comfort Clint when he can’t see or speak to him. 

“When I was seven, he was messing around with his gun.” Bucky’s heart feels like it stops and Clint must feel him tense because he says, “Not like that. Not, like, at me. He was just drunk, shooting at beer cans or whatever, and he yelled at me to get him some more bullets. And when I brought the box over, the gun went off right next to my head. Ruptured my eardrums.”

Clint’s voice is still low, but Bucky can tell that he’s crying. He wants to ask Clint to stop, to tell him that he doesn’t have to tell Bucky all of this if it’s too hard to relive, but Clint keeps going. 

“It was Iowa so everyone just thought it was a hunting accident. And it was an accident. Or at least I think it was. And my hearing mighta came back, but then he’d get mad at me for not listening and he’d hit my ears, so I lost it for good. The nights were the worst, though, when I’d be in bed and I couldn’t hear or see him coming.”

Bucky can imagine a terrified young Clint huddling under his blankets, his back against the wall, staying awake and trying so desperately to see through the dark. He heart aches with the desire to wrap that Clint up and keep him safe, so he never had to be scared again.

Clint clears his throat, the sound wet. “It kept going for a long time, y’know, until, uh, he got real drunk one day and he burned my shoulder with a cigarette while we were out in the yard and one of the neighbors saw it and called the cops.”

Bucky can feel himself crying and he can’t not look at Clint anymore. He needs to see his face. 

He pats at Clint’s arm until Clint lets him go, making sure to telegraph his moves as he slowly turns over. He holds onto Clint’s bicep, slowly moving his hand up to Clint’s shoulder, then his neck, until he’s cupping his face, his palm immediately wet. 

He feels oddly vulnerable not being able to use his words to comfort Clint, but he thinks maybe that’s the point. Maybe Clint didn’t want platitudes or anything like that. Maybe Clint just wanted Bucky to listen and not be able to pass any sort of judgement or interrupt, allowing Clint to get through it all at once. 

A small part of Bucky hates it because he wants so badly to be able to say something, until he realizes that he has no idea what he would say. That he wishes that things were different? That he’s sorry? He’s sure those are things that Clint has heard a hundred times before. 

Still, he tries to comfort Clint the best he can. He doesn’t pull him into a hug, not willing to crowd him like that, but he does hook their feet around each other, squeezing their ankles together, his hand still cupping Clint’s face gently. 

“M’okay now, mostly. A lot of therapy. But, nights are still the hardest.” Clint turns his face to kiss the palm of Bucky’s hand, before looking back at Bucky, his expression somber. It’s strange to see when he’s usually so animated. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But now you know.”

Bucky just shakes his head, rubbing his thumb along Clint’s cheek, hoping to soothe away even a little of the pain. He once again marvels at how brave and wonderful this man is, to have carried this for so long, to have gone through so much, and to still be so kind. 

Once Bucky wipes away all of his tears, he leans in to kiss Clint’s forehead softly, hoping that Clint can feel everything that Bucky doesn’t have the words to say, before pulling back to look at his face again.

“Let’s go sleep now.” Clint whispers, sounding wrung out, his eyes half-lidded and red. “I want to sleep.”

He pulls Bucky into a hug, making sure to keep his grip loose so Bucky knows that he can break out of it. Even when completely exhausted by his own emotions, Clint is still making sure Bucky feels safe and Bucky’s chest feels like it could cleave in half, his feelings for Clint too big to be contained by his rib cage. 

Bucky swallows back the tears creeping up his throat again and presses a kiss to Clint’s temple, feeling Clint’s breath against his neck. He rubs slow circles on his back until Clint body relaxes all at once as he drops off into unconsciousness, tired from the long night. 

Retreating from Clint’s embrace just enough to see his face, he can see that his brow is still slightly furrowed, but his mouth slack. Bucky watches over him as he sleeps, the image of a younger, terrified Clint still in the forefront of his mind, and his last thoughts as his eyes close are that he hopes that this Clint feels safe now. Cared for. Loved.

Then, Bucky sleeps, too.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading :) [tumblr post.](https://tintedglasses.tumblr.com/post/185786379399/just-wanna-keep-calling-your-name-by-tintedglasses)
> 
> Warnings: You can skip mentions of child abuse by stopping when Clint says "Are you still awake?". Clint talks about his father being an alcoholic and associated physical abuse, including hitting and burning Clint. He also describes an incident with a gun where he is standing too close when it goes off, causing permanent hearing damage.


End file.
